Spencer is as close to beach party-appropriate as he can get and he thinks he's done all right, considering the fact that he rarely goes out to either the beach or to parties as it is. He's never been much of a fan of the ocean--and he still can't quite shake the notion that there could be another creature swimming around out there like the one that had sunk its teeth into his side a couple months ago--but that had radically changed the second he'd received that photo in his text messages of his boyfriend walking out of the ocean, dripping wet and smiling and looking utterly indecent.

The beach isn't so bad, he decides as he smiles at some of the familiar faces he sees in the growing crowd of partygoers. Lara had spared no expense, it seems, with the DJ and bonfire and generous offering of things to eat and drink. He wanders over to the beverage selection and is pleased to see a variety of whiskeys to choose from, opting for the Johnnie Walker--fond memories, after all--and pouring a little more than is probably appropriate into a plastic cup.

He feels someone come up behind him and glances up as he takes a sip of his drink, relishing in the way it warms his throat and belly as he swallows it down, and offering a kind smile in the face of his contentment. "Quite a nice gathering, wouldn't you say?"